by Doug Burbey
"You want me to stay in here?"
"No, I can take care of this myself, Mark. Like I said, he's just being a pain in the ass government bureaucrat trying to check up on his little pet bill rider we are voting up today. I'll put him in his place and send him back out on his way, this shouldn't take more than 15 minutes. Just send him in when you leave."
Kelvin heard the steps and nodded to the secretary. She clicked the button twice and it disconnected. He’d have to remember to send her chocolate, that had proved more entertaining than he expected.
The office door opened and Mark stepped out, a forced smile on his face. “Go on in, Director.”
The Director of the International Cooperative Element Responders, Mr. Kelvin Ordonio, entered the Senator’s office still fighting back chuckles. At five feet eight inches tall and slightly overweight, with a Pacific Islander heritage, Mr. Ordonio projected a calm and social exterior bordering on jovial. Something he carefully cultivated. Although his light grey suit and shoes were immaculately maintained, they appeared to be of the same moderate cost as every other suit worn by a government employee grinding through the daily chores of keeping the Washington D.C bureaucracy moving.
He smiled warmly at the Senator's Chief of Staff "Mark, how have you been good Sir? I hope the Majority Leader here is taking great care of you. If not, you know we could always use a man of your stature over with the ICERs. I could make some calls for you." Shaking the Chief's hand then clapping his shoulder lightly as if they were old friends. "We have great dental coverage. Oh, and reserved parking spaces. You can't beat that deal with a stick here in D.C. huh?"
"Oh, I'm just fine where I am, Director, but I appreciate your offer none the less,” Mark replied back. But the smile on his face betrayed nervousness and he quickly left the room and pulled the Senator's office door closed behind him.
Senator Mulkiski sat still behind her desk staring directly at the visiting Director, impatiently drumming her fingers on the glossy dark hardwood desktop. "Director Ordonio, what a pleasure to have you come across the river today. What brings you over to the Capital Hill side?" Her words came out cordial, but cold.
"Oh, thank you, Senator," Kelvin began his cheery reply as he pulled a laser pointer sized metal object from his inner coat pocket and clicked a button on its base. "It's always an honor to be given a few minutes of the Senator's time to personally address any of the concerns your office may have in regards to the budget request questions your staffers have requested from my budget management chief." Moving the object slowly back and forth at waist height along the wall, Kelvin continued slowing across the room appearing to study the various displays of Maryland art and photos hanging there. Just because he had the office bugged, didn’t mean he wanted anyone else listening in.
"Ma'am, may I ask, is this new? I've never seen this before. It's a great photo and I must know if it's a local artist." He said as he pointed at a framed photo with the metal object in his hand and deliberately ran it slowly over each edge of the frame.
"Why, yes it is, Director Ordonio. So nice of you to notice. It's from an artist that works out of a studio on the Eastern Shore. I'll make sure my staff gets you his information." The Senator responded flatly.
"Oh yes, please do, ma'am." He replied as he looked down at the tool in his hand then clicked its base again as he returned it to his pocket. "You get the best free stuff, Janet. You don't pay the price for anything, do you?"
This is part of the problem I need to solve. Greedy career politicians with no real regard for helping their constituents. It’s all about power, and the trappings of it, for them. Decades after decades of worthlessness, problems unsolved and pushed off to be forgotten after the next election cycle. We should have put them in the front lines against the hordes instead of our real best and brightest Americans. Kelvin thought bitterly to himself, making sure his mask of easy civility never wavered.
The Director turned and walked over and sat directly in front of the Senators desk, unbuttoned his coat casually, and placed both his hands folded on his lap as he presented a warm smile.
Clearly showing signs of agitation the Senator pressed the ICER Director, "What do you really want Ordonio?"
"Oh, what we all want, Janet. A world that is safe and free, with the United States of America as the final global superpower and without any of these pesky little demon and Fae issues of course."
Kelvin knew that behind his crafted deceptive smile and calming demeanor was a man whose soul was committed. He would not hesitate to commit a humanity-saving genocide without a single regret, if needed. He was committed, she was just a weakness to exploit.
"Director, your bill rider goes to vote in a couple of hours. It is buried in a subsidy bill as a provision to the existing HIPPA laws for a DNA repository consolidation, ensuring that any, and all, DNA information collected by any government body or commercial activity, is exclusively stored in a single secure repository to ensure private DNA information is not exposed unwittingly. Therefore, the public/private information is secured and citizens will not have to worry about their personal information being misused."
"That's is absolutely splendid, Janet. I'm glad your staff agreed that using the DoD's secure data repository was the most cost-efficient way to proceed as well. Using an existing, and currently underutilized, facility is absolutely in the taxpayer's best interest - a very wise decision. As a core civilian management reorganization, scheduled for next week, will be shifting the repository oversight to my department, I can assure the information will not be misused at all."
"You'll have what you want this afternoon I assure you. I have full faith the repository will be in good hands under your oversight." It would give him a starting list of Americans that are most likely unaware that they even possess a trace of Fae, or demon, DNA in their blood. When the system is fully synced with all Homeland Security Agencies, the DoD, Medical System Records, Department of Justice and Corrections, not to mention all the commercial DNA collecting services and private security providers, the Director of the International Cooperative Element Responders will be able to sort nearly 80% of the humans in the country by potential blood associations with other realm species - no matter how weak a trace or how many generations back.
"Now that it's done, I expect to be compensated immediately after the vote Director."
The Director could not miss the Senator's quickening pace of her fingers drumming her desktop, or the inadvertent flick of her tongue across her upper lips in the excitement of securing the mother of all bribes. "After the President signs the bill enacting the law, you will immediately receive payment into your account in Manila."
"That will be at least two more weeks! How do I know you won't screw me over after the vote?" Her jowls shook, and her complexion reddened at the idea of a double cross.
The Director stood and reached over the Senator's desk and took the small pad of post-it notes. He wrote five numbers onto the top sheet (2,783 / 1,528 / 432 / 896 / 176) before he placed the pad and numbers down directly in front of the senator. "Because I never fail to keep my promises, Janet."
The ICER Director buttoned his coat and turned to leave as the Senator picked up the notepad glancing at the numbers that Director Ordonio had written on it. "Well, what the hell do these mean?"
He turned to look at the Senator as his smile disappeared and turned into an icy stare directed at the aged politician. "The first number is the identified number of Demon War Veterans originally confirmed as survived the war. The second number is how many who are alive today. The third is how many I have under my department's employment today; the fourth number is how many we still have under observation and assessment for disposition."
"But what is the fifth number you wrote down here for then?"
"That, Janet, shows you that I never fail to keep my promises. I told you I would eliminate your issue with the War Vets. That fifth number is how many of the Vets that I've already had killed."
"But what a
bout these guys that you've actually gone and hired? You promised to completely take care of my request. Keeping 432 in your private army stable is not what I asked."
The warm smile returned to the Director's face. "When I've done what I need to do to ensure our fine nation's superiority and safety, then the third number you see there drops to zero and the fifth number increases by that same amount. Don't worry, it will only take me a day to adjust the personnel disposition numbers. As an added bonus I'll be able to shut down my Reset factories. I don't much care for loose ends."
Chapter 20 - First Assignment
Declan settled into his recliner, hit play on the perfectly positioned big screen TV, turned it on to the football game which was the first season of NFL since the armistice was signed, cracked his beer, and sighed.
This is perfect. An afternoon watching the game, plenty of beer, and maybe I'll grill some brauts later.
He ignored the itchy feeling under his skin, determined to enjoy a perfect afternoon. The kind of itch they talked about while they waited for the next wave of demons to try and kill them. Out of habit he glanced at his phone and the remote viewer on it, flipping through the camera views, verifying nothing moved as the sportscasters babbled about stuff that didn't matter.
"Shut up and let them throw the damn football," he muttered at the TV. But even the annoyance felt good. He'd missed football.
The talking idiots finally shut up and the ref blew the whistle, kickoff! Declan wiggled a bit more to get comfortable, raising his beer for another drink and his phone rang. Startled he tipped too soon and beer spilled onto his sweatshirt.
"Alcohol abuse, penalty, two yards." he sighed. Setting the beer down he wiped at his sweatshirt, Detroit Lions - always in his heart even if Detroit didn't exist anymore and looked at the phone with the other.
"Unknown? Who the fuck is unknown? I don't think so." He hit decline and got up to go get a towel to wipe up the mess, and another beer.
The phone chimed with an incoming text as he walked back towards his chair and he picked it up frowning.
*Answer the phone, Mr. Kenner*
Who the fuck?
The question echoed in his mind as the phone rang again displaying unknown again. Glaring at the phone he clicked accept and raised it up to his ear.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Kenner. I have a job assignment for you. Something simple that I am sure you will find in your skill set. It might even give you an opportunity to refresh your memory on how to run a mission." The warm contralto voice told him who spoke instantly, and he didn't know how he felt about the fact that she had been serious about demon hunting.
"Cordy, so nice to hear from you. Miss me already?" He turned and put the beer back in the fridge. Even as he made sure his tone stayed light and flirtatious his mind raced.
Is this a setup? Why is she calling? What in the world could she have for me to do?
"Again, It's Cordelia. I have a demon that seems to have been summoned from a small unsustainable portal and is causing havoc in your neck of the woods. About twenty miles away. I'd like you to remove this annoyance."
The sudden itch to have his gun in his hands made him rub his hands on his jeans, his mind slipping into mission mode.
"How many?"
"Best guess, just one, but sources are not always perfectly accurate."
Declan had to bite back a laugh at that understatement. Perfect intelligence didn't exist; he knew that for a fact.
"Level?"
What am I going to need out of my stash? Can I get her to pay for restocking?
"Reports indicate a level one. Minor. Something I am sure will be easy for you to extinguish."
"And how will you know I've done it?" Declan asked leaning back against his counter, watching the TV without really seeing it.
"You will be expected to deliver its teeth, or an identifying body part, to me. Upon verification of their authenticity, I'll pay."
"I'll need reimbursement for my ammo and any damages to my equipment I might sustain, in addition to the Reset."
"Of course, that is standard for all of our ad hoc contractors. Though if the costs are too extravagant I will require receipts. I assume you know how to use GPS coordinates on your phone for directions."
Declan scoffed. "Of course I do."
"Excellent. I will text them to you immediately. Good hunting." Cordy hung up and Declan looked at his phone.
"How the hell do I load in GPS coordinates to figure out where to go?" Twenty minutes of searching the web, downloading two apps, before he got it to work. "Stupid hi-tech toys. Where the hell is a sergeant when I need one?" The location didn't seem too far away and he ran the ring one demon info through his head.
Normal heavy weapons but takes a decent amount of firepower to kill them. Assume Intel is wrong. There are three of them and ring two. What do I need to load for?
With that in mind he headed down to the armory. Typing in the codes and providing the handprint, he walked in and stood, eyes narrowed as he glanced around at his choices. After a minute he nodded. Striding over he grabbed his modified Vulture Heavy .45 Carbine, a tac vest, ten spare clips, another quick clot kit, a backup piece to ride in the ankle holster, and a combat knife, because you could never go wrong with a combat knife.
Ten minutes later he stood in the kitchen, the unopened beers casting baleful looks his way. "I'll be back for you, promise."
Patting himself down one more time he headed for the door, then paused. With a sigh, he came back and grabbed a battery pack for the phone. With his luck, he'd run out of juice in the middle of nowhere chasing this thing and never get back to his beer.
With nothing else to delay him, DK walked out the door, a smile on his face.
The location sent him outside of Jennings. About thirty miles from his house DK found a headache growing and realized he had clenched up, frowning and glaring at the road.
Why the fuck is someone opening gates and pulling in demons this fucking close to my house?
The more he thought about it the more his blood boiled and the more he wanted to kill the fucker who did this. Maybe even more than the demon itself. The GPS dropped him back behind some all but abandoned strip mall. The only advantage was there would be a lower probability of witnesses. He pulled his truck to a stop in the shadows at the back of the building and stepped out, grabbing the Vulture as he moved. Closing the door quietly he stood, breathing deep, and the stench of demon filled his nostrils. Electric adrenaline licked across his nerves, lighting up his brain as it hadn't been in a long time. His eyes closed in pleasure and he breathed in deep and long, taking all of it in - the blood, the brimstone, the taint, and the wrongness of it.
I fucking missed this.
The truth of the words burned, but he smiled anyhow moving forward the Vulture tight at his shoulder.
~*~
No one answered as DK rang the bell on the counter. As a drop of demon blood slid off his nose and hit the counter his patience vaporized. Pivoting with military precision, he'd retired not died, he turned and took the two steps to the door. Pulling back his foot he slammed it just outside the knob. The cheap plywood hollow door shattered, flying apart. He walked through not caring that the knob didn't even have a lock on it. The destruction without having to worry about dying felt good. He needed more. The corners of his vision flashed red, and something in him screamed that meant bad things.
DK didn't care. He stalked through the cubical farm, navigating effortlessly through the maze, his steps taking him directly to Cordy's office. The door stood slightly ajar but he could hear music coming from the other side. Without breaking stride he shoved it open, his hand shooting out automatically to stop it from rebounding into his face. He'd knocked down more than one door in his career.
The office door, no better material than the one in the front, bounced off the wall with a crack of drywall, slamming back into his hand. Cordy, sitting at the desk with headphones on, spun backward and came up eyes wild and a .
38 pointed right at him.
"What the fuck, Kenner," she shouted her eyes so dilated they appeared black. He noted with some small part of his mind her aim never wavered and she held it on his center mass with the air of someone who knew how to use a gun.
"Ring one demon, you said. One demon, best guess, you said. Imply maybe there would be two. I believed you. Why? I don't know. Maybe it was your tits. Maybe because you have something I need. Or maybe I was stupid enough to think I could trust a government whore. There were three fucking ring twos, and one three. I used up every bit of ammo I had, ended up killing the last one, the three with my fucking knife. NO ONE USES A FUCKING KNIFE TO KILL A RING THREE DEMON!" He screamed that last bit leaning over her desk. The .38 pointed at his chest and he didn't give a damn if she pulled the trigger. After tonight the pain of the .38 hitting his vest would be a bee sting. Maybe.
Cordy blinked and put the gun away. "That is NOT what I was informed. I will deal with that breach immediately. Do you have proof?" Her voice calm and cool as if he stood there in a suit, not dripping demon blood all over the carpet.
DK closed his eyes, absorbing the power the blood brought with it, using it to push back the rage, to build his internal power and force calm onto his mind. He dug into one pocket in the BDU's and pulled out three tentacles and set of fangs.
"Here. These ring twos didn't have teeth. "
Cordy looked at the gory bits on her desk, mouth wrinkling in a slight moue of distaste.
"Very well." She reached in and pulled out four doses of reset. "Please send me an invoice for the ammo and I'll have the money deposited in your account." She pulled out some latex gloves slipping them on and picking up the tentacles, her nose wrinkling.